


human contact

by cresswell



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Comfort, F/M, M/M, Unplanned Pregnancy, like bffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3534377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cresswell/pseuds/cresswell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A frustrated, almost animalistic noise comes from inside the room, and Jasper winces. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispers to Monty. “She hasn’t been like this since Finn.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	human contact

The wonderful thing about living across the hall from Jasper and Monty is that she’s hardly ever alone. They wander into her dorm of their own accord, without premise, sometimes already halfway through a sentence so she has to struggle to keep up. It’s exhausting, but they’re her best friends, so it’s okay.

But the fact that the university walls are so thin and they’re so close means that they’re able to hear the horrified shriek that comes from across the hall.

In a flash, they’ve pulled themselves off the couch- knocking their bowl of popcorn over in the process- and launched themselves out into the hall. “Clarke?” Jasper pounds frantically on the door. “Are you okay? Clarke?”

“Go away,” she calls, and both the boys heave a little sigh of relief because at least she isn’t lying unconscious in a pool of her own blood. Or whatever.

“Clarke, what’s wrong?” Monty tries, pressing his ear against the door in the hopes of hearing something that will reveal the situation. “Talk to us.”

“ _I don’t want to talk_ ,” she snarls, her voice now much closer to the door, making both the boys jump back a little. “Now go _away_.”

“We can’t leave you alone like this,” Jasper says back, sharing a worried look with Monty. “We’re your friends.”

A frustrated, almost animalistic noise comes from inside the room, and Jasper winces. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispers to Monty. “She hasn’t been like this since Finn.”

Suddenly, the door is yanked open, and Jasper flails before falling on his face. Clarke glowers down at him, her eyes red and puffy, and growls, “I can _hear you._ ”

Jasper grovels, and Monty steps over his sprawled-out form, wringing his hands in front of him. “Clarke, please tell us what’s going on.” He puts on his best puppy dog look. “You’re scaring me.”

Clarke gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes, but her expression softens, and Monty smiles triumphantly. She angrily rakes her hair back and off her face, stomping further into her dorm so they can come in. “Fine. But I hate you.”

“We love you too, Clarke,” Jasper croons, and Monty’s about to tell him to _shut the hell up_ when Clarke returns, holding out her fist.

Both of the boys look at her in confusion, and she impatiently slaps the object into Monty’s hand. “There.”

Monty unfurls his hand slowly, with Jasper crowding into his space to see over his shoulder. It’s an object neither of them have ever actually seen in person, and it takes a moment- but then they see the little pink plus sign, and-

“Holy shit!” Jasper exclaims, leaning away like the pregnancy test just bared little pink teeth at him. He stares, wild-eyed, at Monty, and then at Clarke. “Holy shit!”

Clarke releases a string of swear words that nearly sends Jasper groveling on his knees again, but Monty swoops in and catches Clarke in a smothering hug. He squeezes his eyes shut, hearing the erratic, anxious pounding of her heart beneath his ear. “It’ll be okay.”

Clarke tenses beneath him, her arms stiff at her sides, before he nuzzles his nose into her shoulder a bit and she melts, winding her arms around his back. He’s happy she hugged him back, at least- she’d never been a big hugger, except when it came to-

To Bellamy.

Monty’s eyes pop open. “It’s Bellamy.”

Any progress he’d made by hugging her immediately vanishes as she squirms in his hold, shoving at his face. “What did you say?”

“It’s Bellamy,” Monty repeats, releasing her. “Bellamy’s the father.”

He half expects her to punch him in the face- okay, not really, but _if looks could kill_ \- but instead, her face crumples, and she falls onto the couch with her face in her hands.

This is bad. _Really_ bad. They’re not completely unfamiliar with the sight of Clarke crying- she stress cries, and she’d cried for nearly a month straight when her father died- but this form of crying is new. The sounds are small and raw, not loud and angry and unforgiving, and Monty’s hands flutter around anxiously, not sure of what to do. Jasper catches his wrist in his hand and pulls them to the couch as well. They frame her like bookends, Monty nosing his way against her side, Jasper holding her hand and rubbing her back.

“I love him,” Clarke cries, and the sound just about breaks Monty’s heart. “This will make him not love me anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Jasper says, and his voice is soft but fierce, making Monty’s heart swell. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Nothing could make him not love you,” Monty adds, because it’s so true. “I think you know that, don’t you? I know you’re scared. But you being scared doesn’t change anything.”

“But a _baby_ does,” Clarke says, her breath hitching on one of those little gasps people make when they’re crying with their whole heart, and Monty burrows deeper against her side. “He’s going to leave me.”

Monty knows she doesn’t really believe that; that she’s just psyching herself out. “He’s not. He loves you very much. And he _cares_ about you, too, Clarke. Bellamy’s a good person. He wouldn’t just leave you with a baby and take off.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke breathes out unevenly, worrying her lip between her teeth. “I’m just so sorry.”

“What?” Jasper exclaims, now clinging to her whole arm, like clutching her to him will help her feel okay. (It actually probably will. Human contact is basically the key to Clarke Griffin.) “No, don’t be. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but Jasper shakes his head firmly. “Shush. None of that.”

Monty hooks his chin over her shoulder, wishing he could take away some of the sorrow or fear or anxiety she’s feeling. “Do you want us to be here when you tell Bellamy?”

Her whole body quivers, like the thought of telling him scares her half to death. “Yes,” she says finally, and with the words her shoulders seem to fall, like the admittance of wanting help has made her lighter. “Not in the same room. But close.”

Monty snuggles back into her side, catching Jasper’s gaze, and grips his hand behind Clarke’s back. “We’re always close.”


End file.
